


A Long Road

by QueenPeace0



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alpha Bjorn, Alpha Ubbe, Alpha heahumad, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Hvisterk, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gentleness, Gore, M/M, Not Lagatha friendly, Old Gods, Old Norse, Omega Ivar, Religion, Rough Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPeace0/pseuds/QueenPeace0
Summary: “Ivar, no!” Ubbe shouted.He expects to hear Sigurd gasp in surprise by the ax swing pass his body.Instead, he hears a horrifying and resounding thud.Ivar looked up.Sigurd pulled out the ax and started towards him. He makes it halfway to Ivar before he drops down.Dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first time writing fanfic but I really wanted to contribute!

“No one respects you Ivar we all pity you” Sigurd spat out.

“Everyone knows that you're a weak, useless omega.”

“We why no alpha wants to mate with you, you can't give them what every alpha wants!”

Sigurd shouted he threw his hand up apparently done with over with the conversation.

He got his cup and drank the wine, eyes on Ivar.

 

Ivar consumed by rage, picked up his ax and threw it Sigurd.The aim wasn't deadly just to leave a scratch there for a few days.

 

“Ivar, no!” Ubbe shouted.

 

He expects to hear Sigurd gasp in surprise by the ax swing pass his body. Instead, he hears a horrifying and resounding thud. Ivar looked up.

 

Sigurd pulled out the ax and started towards him. He made it halfway to Ivar before he dropped down.

 

Dead.

 

Ubbe and Hvisterk rushed towards the body-cradling the fallen boy’s head in their hands.

 

They checked his pulse the fading heartbeat quickly faded away into nothing. The brothers look at each other. Ivar’s eyes wide with guilt. But the emotion soon cleared out of them as he looked down at the dead brother that at forsaken him and humiliated him all his life.

He didn't show it but a small curl of satisfaction rolled deep in his belly. And a small smirk crawled up on his face. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Ivar looked at the dead body of his brother and considered his next plan of action.

 

 

 

In the war room, the brothers sat in tense silence.

 

They were in shock and in disbelief of what had transpired earlier this morning.

“I know what you all are thinking,” Ivar starts voice full of emotion. “But it is not true.” “I didn't mean to kill him.” They look at Ivar disbelief on clearly painted on their faces.

“He made me kill him.” He looks up as Bjorn comes storming in. Bjorn snorts and stays silent.

“He taunted me, made fun of me. What was I supposed to do?” Ivar looks at Ubbe. He had always been protective of Ivar. Ivar knew it was because he was both an omega and a cripple. Both dangerous to be in these lands.

A male omega at that, many had attempted to get him, steal him away. But they were either stopped by Ubbe or the rest of the family.

Or they met a rather painful death with Ivar. But now he is silent. Watching Ivar cautiously like he might attack him.

Ivar turns away the sting of rejection is sharp in the air. “What kind of a man turn and tells lies about his own,” Ivar pauses and speaks again disgust clearly in his voice “ brother?”

“And what lies did he tell?” Hvisterk asks. “You know as well as I do Hvisterk.” Ivar sneers as if they didn’t know. He was a useless thing.

His heats irregular and he didn’t look like and normal omega. His body muscled and strong and his will stronger than any other alpha. As far as anybody knew Ivar was also infertile and even his own body didn’t respond to anything he conjured or did. He was a disgrace as an omega.

Ivar looked down contemplating.

“ And what would have you done, Ubbe?” he pauses.

“If you were a real alpha?” Ubbe drank his wine. He seemed intent on getting drunk tonight. “I swear to the gods and everything that is scared that I never meant to kill him. Anger overcame me and I wasn't thinking.”

 

Ivar paused and took a deep breath. “I am truly sorry.” Ivar waited but the silence was strong.

They truly thought that he had meant to kill him. Ivar stifled the hurt sound curling up his throat and grabbed his helmet. Let them stew over what he has said. He gets off his chair and starts toward the exit. He only gets so far from the room when he hears. Ubbe utter “You cannot leave him in charge of the great army.”

 

 

Ivar ignores the jab and continues on. Maybe Floki will have better news for him. He smiles as he thinks of his longtime friend and companion. He has never brought Ivar down. As Ivar prowled towards Floki he gazes curiously. He calls

“Floki why are you building a toy boat?” He tells his mind to stay away from the thoughts that Floki was finally tired of him and would go away. Because he would never do such a thing. Not to him. Floki chuckles and looks up at Ivar. The omega everybody fears and will fear one day. He answers Ivar’s question

“ It’s not a toy boat, it’s a one-man boat.” “It only takes one man to sail it,” Floki says, says, preparing for the onslaught of questions from Ivar. “And where will you sail it to?” Ivar asks mockingly because he is surely joking one of Floki’s clever tricks.

Floki straights up at the question and answers pride in his voice. “To wherever the gods will it.” Ivar loses his smile his face taking on a more serious tone. He knows Floki isn't playing a trick on him now. He is planning on leaving him. “I don’t want you to go,” Ivar states fiercely.

“I still need you in the fight against the Christians.” Ivar takes a breath and carries on “My brothers are too weak and you know that Floki.” Floki says nothing concentrated on fixing his one-man boat. Ivar looked at him beseechingly, pleading with his eyes.

“Please.”

It's something he doesn't say much nor lightly. Floki had better appreciate it.

Floki looks at him then sadness in his gaze. “My brothers,” Ivar starts voice heavy with emotion “They don't believe that I didn't mean to kill Sigurd.” Ivar’s eyes flicker up to Floki and down repeatedly. “But I did not want to.” The statement is said through gritted teeth and he forces himself to continue. “He was my brother.” He looks up at Floki. “That is why you cannot leave.” Floki stands up and begins to walk toward Ivar. “I will be too lonely.” He mumbled looking down as Floki reached him.

“I have to leave Ivar,” Floki begins, “With Helga gone there is nothing left for me here.” Ivar looks up sharply at the statement. I am here you fool! He wants to scream at him. The man who looks so composed while talking to him. He hates it. Floki continues “This world no longer interests me. That is why I must submit myself to the tides, winds, and the will of the gods.”

“Come with me,” Floki asks.

Ivar looks up a swirl of emotion in his gaze. Rage, anguish, betrayal all swirling in those expressive eyes. Eyes that remind Floki of Ragnar. So much alike. He would have been proud. “My heart is broken.” He cries out. He rests his head on Floki’s chest. He inhaled the scent of the alpha as he was probably the last time he would ever smell it. Floki’s smell of wood chips and seawater always had comforted him. He fisted his hands and cried his eyes out until dinner.

 

Dinner..was good as expected. His brothers agree to go to York. His argument making it hard for them to refuse. Ivar sat on his bed. He looked up at the night sky and released a breath. He slowly got on his knees and started his prayer.

_Freyja, I come to you asking as I am a respecting and humble servant who lives for your name. I ask for a….ally. Someone who will fight for me and only me. I ask you to let me see my mate. The warrior that they have to be in order to be my mate. I ask for this person to love me like no person has. I ask and I pray only for you my Goddess of Death. That one day I and my one will ravage the world together._


	2. Challege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!

A Saxon.

His Mate was damn _Christian._ Not the traditional Viking that he thought it would be. In the Battle of York, his Bishop was a flurry of death. Bodies dropping like flies in his path. Shouting his prayers in the faces of his brothers. Ivar was truly amazed.

So amazed even after they had taken the city he still thinks about that man. His _alpha._ He couldn't ask for a better mate. His religion, although can use a little working to it, all in due time.

The battle was glorious. His plan worked, as usual, many dead by his hand. One problem still remains. His Bishop is still there with the enemy, with the Saxons, and that simply will not do.

The Saxons are still surrounding York. Their forces are depleted though. It will be easy to kill them off as they are not very strong willed not fighting for a purpose only because their _King_ tells them to. Which only works well in Ivar’s favor. He has no qualms or regrets about the mind games he brings to the field.

He has no doubt they will be easily crushed with the right strategy.

                                        *****

If only Ubbe and Hvitserk hadn’t gone and ruined his planes. Ubbe showed up bruised, and eyes were swollen shut. His face full of blood. They sat shame clearly on their faces looking down. Ivar felt giddy everything was falling into place _exactly_ how he wanted it to.

“It is now time for you to recognize me as the rightful leader of the great army,” Ivar says staring down from the throne he was sitting on. He looked menacing and regal nothing like an omega should look like. He took pride in his roguish look.

There were scoffs of disbelief around the room. Angry sounds and a few people even leaving the room. It the rest still a large amount stood silent. They had watched him in battle. No less fearless than his brothers.

“As your older brother, I can never accept that.” Ubbe stood while talking.

Ivar listened to him disbelief clearly painted on his face. They were almost _killed_ tonight. Sons of Ragnarok and they think we are worried about their _pride?_ They made them look weak and now he had to work twice as hard to make them look strong.

His brothers were weak and they were not very smart. He although, was both and he could carry the burden that they could not.

                                         ****

Ivar woke with a groan. The Saxon beds were _not_ as comfortable as they looked. They felt like they were made of stones. He preferred his bed soft with animal furs and wool skin sheets. He got out of bed and quickly changed into his clothes wanting to see Ubbe and Hvitserk leave and maybe even to persuade some to come back.

Pulling on his jacket, his mother made it for him before his journey with Ragnar, he reached for oil that masked his scent. One of the pulse point of his neck and some on his right wrist the pulse point there.

Thankfully the house he occupied was close to the lake that leads back to Kattegat. He would not be seen _crawling_ to see his brothers away. He would get there early before anyone else. And he would look strong.

                                      ***

“Everybody is with me!” Ivar sat on the rock legs tilted slightly to the side like always. He spread his arms to empathize his point and _his_ people cheered for him. He looked at the going away like _cowards._

He looked further out to the boat where Ubbe and Hvitserk were boarded. Ubbe looked worse than he did last night if that is possible. His two brothers stood on the boat staring at each other until one of them, Hvitserk, backed off of the boat and hopped onto the shore.

Ivar grinned, _of course, it would be Hvitserk._ He knew he would get tired of being treated like a dog by Ubbe it was only a matter of time. He had made his choice and it was to side with him. Ivar looked at Ubbe his face was a mix of emotions betrayal being the most present one.

“Everyone is with me.” He mouthed at Ubbe and he grinned seeing Ubbe’s mouth set into a grim line.

“Everyone.”

                                         ****

Someone had challenged him. An alpha of course who thought that made him better than Ivar. Ivar smiled at the thought. Who by knows _doesn't_ know him? He was fierce in the battle and he was the _only_ reason they won in the first place.

He should be looked upon with respect and awe. Fear was also a great motivator in his tactics. They wat he had screamed and raged in the streets of York left an impression on everybody who saw it. And now an unknown alpha is challenging him, making him look weak _already._ He hadn't even been ruling for a day.

He was not worried at all the fight would be easy people always underestimated him and would be his advantage and their deadly mistake.

Preparing for a battle with an alpha took time. To find the right strategy and what weapon he would choose, and how he would use his legs during the fight. It would take all his deliberation and skill.

But….if he didn't act like he did maybe he would trick them all into believing that he had no plan nor skill. Make them think that he was weak as an omega then tear out the alpha’s throat.

He smiled that was a glorious plan he gathered is axed, his favorite weapons, and headed out. Crawling toward the main center of York.

He was the last one to get there of course he was. The alpha in the middle of the square was a big man probably used brute force to get everything he wanted. He had probably never seen a book in his life. Ivar felt for him he didn't know what he would do if he was so stupid.

Lifting himself on a rock Ivar started at the man. He was acting a fool of himself so sure that get would win this fight. Ivar frowned he rather get this on with. Raising his hand he crushed his hand into a fist. Immediately the crowd quieted. The alpha frowned confused and turned around. Seeing Ivar he straightened his back and stood tall.

_Posturing._

He made a scoff of disgust. All they ever thought about sex, being powerful, and scotch. If they could afford scotch.

“My name is Asger Urethane” he spoke he bowed his head as he spoke. Ivar look at him closely that was in common name. He must be from a different land. He had a very short face with a beard and lead down to his stomach. He had dark hair and his braid was long and he had markings on his face. His armor was a tainted gray. Dull and boring, with his shield a wooden color. He had not even colored it. His weapon that was on his side was a sword. The sword in question was brilliant compared to the rest of the main. He was obviously made with care. The hilt engraved with Old Norse that only Ivar understood.

_“And here your enemies will meet their end.”_

That sword was a relic.Not meant for the usual battle. It was meant to see wars and blood and soak itself in blood. Not here used for the simple fight. He shook off his anger and looked up a smile on his face. Everybody knew who he was no need to announce it. He felt that it would only be _respectful._

“I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” Ivar stated. He tilted his head as he saw the realization pass through the eyes of the other. Had he really not known who he was. Maybe he was getting too cocky and not everybody knew him. He bent his body his form a bow. “I would bow to you properly but as you can see I am...unable to do so.” Ivar grinned at the chuckles it gained him.

“You're a damn cripple!” Asger spat out face flushing with rage. Or embarrassment who knows. Ivar gave him a dead look lines he had many times. He wouldn't give mercy to this man. Why do you challenge a leader and not know anything about them?

He ignored the insult and got to position on the ground. His body laying down, upper body tilted up and an ax in his hand. The other in a not so noticeable place.

His challenger looked uneasy for the first time he arrived. _Good_ Ivar thought the more hesitant hell be the more chances I have of winning.

“Come on coward!” Ivar challenged. “Do you,” He paused before chuckling “think you will lose?” Asger’s face filled red and he charged at him. Ivar rolled over once he got to close and quickly rolled his body to the other side of the circle that had formed. He gripped his ax and quickly threw it at the others man’s back. Crawling he shifted up and looked at Asger to see his reaction. He made no sound just pulled out his ax with a pained grunt. He made his way toward Ivar he got close and slashed his sword down meaning to behead him.

Ivar quickly rolled on his back and blocked the sword with his hands. Immediately regretting the decision as the sword drew blood from his hands and they stayed like that struggling to gain power over the other. The sword cutting deeply into Ivar. What to do? Ivar thought for a moment and groaned. This tactic only embarrassed him but was effective in dealing with weak minded people. Especially alphas.

Not losing his grip on the sword Ivar leaned his head back and exposed his neck to the other. “I submit.” The words were whispered in his ear as he had leaned down to scent Ivar. He shivered in distaste but it got the desired reaction. The sword's weight lifted and he took his chance. He bared his teeth and took a bite of the man’s neck. He teeth caught on the skin and dug into it. Ivar bit down and snatched his face away. His mouth spitting out skin and meat that was just in his mouth. Asger let out a scream of pain and jumped up to get away. Ivar quickly grabbed his ax from his pants and swung it at the man's legs. He fell down and Ivar quickly crawled up the man. And smashed his ax down on his face.

Repeatedly.

Ivar ignored the screams of pain from the other. Continued on no matter how horrified the Vikings know looking. Ivar stopped when he could no longer see the face that had once been the man. Calmly he retracted his ax and sat up and rolled from the man. Sweeping his tongue through his mouth he gathered up the remaining blood from his mouth and spat it out.

He looked over at the dead man. He took his sword and raised it up. Ivar didn't know when it started but they were chanting. His name.

“Ivar!”

“Ivar!”

“Ivar!”

He grinned as they picked him up carrying him on their shoulders. He let out a joyous laugh at the attention and screamed with them until his voice ran out. They placed him on the throne. Face still bloody and hands covered with wraps.

Then silence. They were waiting for him to say something. Ivar smirked he knew exactly what they wanted. He let the silence drone on for a while to get them riled. “Tonight,” Ivar voice rose “We shall have a feast and celebrate our victory!” Vikings cheered and roared they knew that following him would be worth it. He had just shown that he is cable of taking care of himself. No matter his orientation nor the deformity.

Ivar grinned proudly. He knew he would make a great leader. Now all he had to do is kill Lagertha. And in order to do that he had to get his mate.

 

He ducked out as people started preparing the feast. He would eat later. He had an alpha to capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep your toes. He is coming!


	3. Scent

Ivar stood in the dirty underground of York. His plan was less than satisfactory. To come up from the ground two a time and attack? It would be doomed but Ivar assumed that the shock and fear would still them enough for his brethren to get out and fight. 

 

Stepping aside to avoid the..rot he looked up to see soldiers walking around seemingly thinking that they had gone. He wanted to scream at their foolishness and stupidity. Looking at Hvitserk he smiled and walked back as quietly as he could.

 

Glancing if his army was prepared he swung his knife down in an arch and screamed a battle cry to be heard all thought out the sewers. 

 

They quickly climbed out the ladder two at a time quickly killing those close to them. 

 

Walking through the streets of York while a battle was in progress was..exhausting, to say the least. To be the cause of such a mighty battle? An honor. Walking quickly because there was only so much he could walk before his legs  _ really _ started to give out He gestures for two of his men to follow him to the main court. 

 

His bodyguards Orm and Ulf were his back and front killing anyone who came to close. Finally reaching the stairs leading to the center point of battle he pushed down his embarrassment and motioned for his bodyguards to come and lift him over the stairs. 

 

Grunting slightly as they pick him up he grits his teeth to avoid letting out a pained sound as they reach the top of the stairs. Setting him down with his crutch in easy reach he straightens up and walks forward trembling ever so slightly.

 

Looking at the wreckage below, Ivar felt powerful. Standing here clean and orderly already knowing the turnout of the battle. Glancing Ivar searches for Heahmund, eyes quickly scanning the ground where the battle was taking place.

 

His eyes quickly found a black covered figure swords gliding and killing as smoothly as the one who wielded moved. Ivar straightened best he could and fixed his clothes hurriedly making sure he was at least preventable than the last time his mate had seen him. 

 

“Spears!” Ivar screamed pointing at the line of Vikings before him. One by one they assembled the straightest line the could muster in the middle of a battle and threw the weapons. With deadly accuracy, the Saxons tumbled like rocks one after the other as the spears pierced their skin and injured them beyond repair.

 

Ivar smiled satisfied and looked towards Orm and Ulf. They both looked at him wonderingly seemingly puzzled how Ivar controlled troops even in the wild of battle.

 

Ivar shrugged it off looking back on the battlefield only to see Heahmund’s horse get shot down and Heahmund tumbling to the ground in a graceful heap of limbs.    

 

_ “Stop fighting!”  _

  
  


*************

 

Heahmund crashed to the ground spurting blood coughing as it continued to rain down on his face he quickly got to his sword. Only to notice that he was only him in motion as the fighting had stopped. He looked as crazy as a Viking blood on his face and screaming like a madman.

 

_ “Give him my horse.” _  Heahmund looked up at the source of the voice and nearly snapped them back down as how saw who it was. 

 

Ivar the Boneless his mate. Standing there no grime or dust he looked like a real prince. Standing up taller he stared lingered at Ivar fascination evident in his gaze. He had no explanation for why his God why match him with a Pagan but there had to be an explanation. As he works in mysterious ways that Heahmund can't comprehend.  

Ivar broke the stare and called out again.

 

“Give him my horse, he is a too great a warrior to fight on foot.”  

 

His soldiers stared at him confused they knew not what Ivar was saying as they had never bothered to understand Pagan language. He looked at Ivar and dropped to one knee still shaken by the almost death he had encountered and kissed his sword. 

 

_ Thanks and a promise. _

 

Ivar chuckled getting the message. Heahmund stood at the sound of a horse galloping his way. He stared at the horse I'm perfect condition. Brown lined with animal.furs and obviously very well taken care of. 

 

Looking at the horse he turned back to Ivar and bowed he looked up slightly snarling to see Ivar send a small bow back smiling all the while. Heahmund hid a smile and climbed on the horse. 

 

Righting himself he looked up towards Ivar and shook his head once. 

 

Ivar stood motionlessly and then slowly lifted up his sword and cut it down in one motion. 

 

And chaos began again.

 

                             ********

 

“Hello, Bishop Heahmund.” Ivar began quietly but firmly. Heahmund jerked in his bonds rousing to turn to look at him. He was just..looking at him. Ivar cleared his throat to begin again, stronger this time. 

 

“I think it’s time I  _ properly _ introduce myself. I am Ivar the Bone-”

 

“I know who you are Ivar,” Heahmund interrupted voice rough and hard “Son of Ragnar Lothbrok and my mate. I care not for your title.” Ivar stared surprised so he knew. Not many alphas feel the bond until weeks after they meet. So for Heahmund to accept so quickly that they were mates was surprising, especially concerning one's religion.

 

“You accept so readily?” Ivar questions. “So eager to give up your freedom, and treasures at home for me? A cripple.” While talking Ivar had crawled closer to Heahmund wanting to get closer to his scent. “Are you not  _ scared _ that you will be disowned by your religion and banished to the Hell that your  _ Christians  _ are so afraid of?” Ivar spits the questions in his face demanding answers.

 

Because there is  _ no way  _ that such big events go easily for him. 

 

“I fear no man nor I fear no place.” Heahmund states staring into Ivar’s eyes intensely. “I have given up no freedom, but perhaps maybe you have given up yours.”

 

“So I have made a mistake?” Ivar questions “Capturing you and bringing you to me?” He tone is light but his eyes are a different story. A mix of emotions rage, fear, hope and a whole other range that Heahmund couldn't  comprehend if he wanted to.

“Maybe,” Heahmund starts slowly “Or I might be one of your best decisions you have made.” 

 

Ivar tilts his head and smiles a flash of teeth barely there. Smart alpha not so stupid as the rest of his sex.

 

Ivar reached for the bucket that was sitting innocently on the ground and pulled out the cloth that was soaking the water. Reaching up he touched Heahmund’s face gently and with the other pressed the rag to his face.

 

Ivar could see patches of blood and tissue gathered around his beard and marveled just how different or similar the situation was to how they first meet on the battlefield. 

 

“It is tradition, that when a mated pair first meets they must scent mark each other to see if they are with their one  _ true _ mate.” Ivar finishes and looks up at Heahmund. But Ivar had no doubt in his mind that this was his gift from the Gods, his very own mate. 

 

He puts down the cloth now that Heahmund is..cleaner. Wobbling Ivar gets to his knees and faces Heahmund discomfort evident by the tightening of his eyes. Made even worse with the hardness of stone.

 

“Untie me,” Heahmund implores “And stop trying to prove yourself strong as you are making it entirely way too difficult.”  Ivar snaps his head up blood rushing up his neck and to his cheeks. Clearly baffled by what the alpha had just said. Recovering he reached for the keys secured in the space of his pants and took them out. Having to reach to unlock the shackles holding Heahmund.

 

With Heahmund finally released Ivar sat back waiting. Slowly he rolled his shoulders getting all the knots out his body from being in the same position for a whole night.

 

Finally looking at Ivar he reached out his hand pulse increasing as he got closer to his intimidating mate. Ivar grabbed the hand greedily inhaling the scent that overcame his mind.

 

He smelled  _ divine.  _ Like honey and grapes with an underlying scent of iron. Heahmund stumbled when Ivar, who drunk off his scent grabbed him harshly mashing his nose into the juncture of his neck. In turn, Heahmund could smell Ivar who had turned the embrace into some sort of half-hug. 

 

Heahmund senses nearly exploded with his scent. Vanilla, and a unique scent that Heahmund couldn't place. Ivar smelled like blood, war, and  _ anger _ . He was stunned at the  _ intensity _ of Ivar. He was captivated by him.

 

“I never thought I would have this,” Ivar said, “A mate for me and only me because no man or God would couple themselves with me willingly." Heahmund looked up questioningly.

 

Ivar looked away from the gaze shame burning in his eyes. “We will talk about later, for now, let us get to somewhere more warm and suitable for my alpha.” Ivar expression changed from shame-filled to childish excitement in a second to fast to be real.

 

Heahmund raised his eyebrows at the omega’s boldness and followed Ivar toward his bedchambers where they would rest.

  
  



	4. Filler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you want to happen?
> 
> Annd I'm back!!! Hey yall

_ Freyja is one of the most important Norse Goddess. She is The Lady and with her, she brings fortune, love, beauty, fertility, and gold. She is a member of the Vanir, a group of gods, who share the same wisdom and magic as she. She blesses those who worship and fight for her name as she is not without her vain. _

 

_ She is not docile nor a weak maiden who hides behind locked doors of a grand palace. The Lady is older than Odin himself and not one to be trifled with and many Gods fear her rightfully so. _

 

_ Freyja is a warrior. A Goddess of Death. Her chariot pulled by ancient cats and a boat ride with her into battle. Freyja is the picture of lethal grace on the battlefield and you would do well to stay out her way.  _

 

_ Her offspring she has many.  They are very beautiful and are seducers of every race and sex. Her offspring are sometimes violent, angry, and often deformed. So they are usually killed at birth. A curse placed on her by Loki for killing one of his horses.  _

 

_ Her offspring will bring war and death. Wealth and fortune. They are like sirens approach with caution.   _

  
  
  
  


_ ****************** _

  
  


Ivar swallowed the piece of chicken and rubbed his hands together trying to get rid of the oily leftover of the meat. Slouching back Ivar grabbed the pitcher of water and drank greedily water pouring down his chin and onto his clothes. The pitcher was grabbed forcefully from his lips and he started staring angrily as his brothers laughing face.

 

“Thirsty Ivar?” Hvisterk laughed. He poured the rest of the water on the ground and straightened up. Ivar huffed, water still gliding down his face and threw the closest thing next to him which happened to be a clay plate. 

 

Hvisterk yelled and stepped away bones crowding around his feet. 

 

“You’re so childish,” Hvisterk muttered lowly. He heard Ivar laugh from beside him and smiled slowly. He straightened up at the sound of thunderous footsteps approaching them. Ivar hearing them too looked at him and hurriedly got out of his slouch wiping the water from his mouth. 

 

It was his bishop.

 

**********

 

“Why won’t you give me the knife?” The alpha’s eyes are intense, challenging him. Ivar slowly flips the sword in the opposite direction and hands it to Heahmund. Tilting his head he makes a soft sound as the bishop presses the tip of the blade to his stomach. 

 

Walking backward Heahmund keeps his eyes on Ivar until he steps out the tent to face the other pagans. The crowd of Vikings was rowdy as they shouted vile, crude words. He couldn't hear his own breathing. But he could smell bad breath. And the blond Viking that had been in his face since he stepped out was surely taunting him. 

 

Looking back at Ivar they locked eyes for a moment. Ivar looked enraptured at the show Heahmund was putting on. Completely focused on him not sent shivers up the bishop’s spine. 

 

He turned back only for the blond man to be close enough to  _ smell _ him. He was truly disgusting. Reaching up quickly he grabbed the side of the man's face and stabbed Ivar’s dagger in his face. He shouldn't have been as satisfying as it was. 

 

Drawing up all the spit he could he quickly shot it out his mouth and onto the vile man's face. Gripping the blade tightly he twisted it sharply and listened to the man gurgle on his blood. Sneering, he retracted the blade and let it drop to the ground. Looking up, he faced the ground that was staring at him bewildered. Snarling slightly he opened his mouth when Ivar’s laugh cut through the silence like a knife.

 

His laughter was wild and rambunctious just like on the battlefield when they just met. Turning around slowly he faced Ivar who starched his arms out in a parody of a hug.

 

“I think he will fight with us!” he shouted victory alight on his face. The crowd of Vikings roared in agreement shouting his name the begging of a chant. Ivar looked on seeming satisfied. Heahmund raised his eyebrows, he thought that that had already been settled. His mate had a flair for the dramatic it seemed.

 

**************

 

_ Walking into Ivar’s tent he relaxed at the sight of the tub of water. In the right corner of the room.  _

 

_ “Take a bath, please,” Ivar said he had his face scrunched up. “You reek of rot.” Frowning slightly he wanted to point out that only a few moments ago he was smelling his wrists like it was the last supper. _

 

_ Walking toward the tub he unclasped the sled of his armor and threw it on the floor. Quickly stripping out his shirt and lastly getting rid of his pants. He steps into the tub hissing slightly at the hot liquid. Stretching his legs he relaxed as he muscles slowly relaxed. Looking around at the large tent he was occupying he shifted slightly to get a better look. _

 

_ A small table with one chair at one side sat, it looked terribly lonely. On the table sat a  chess piece and a silver bracelet twisted slightly that ended with decorative endings that sat along with an empty plate.  _

_ Carrying on with his observation he jerks startles when he sees Ivar on the other side of the room watching him intently. Just staring. Gathering his wits he stared back just as Ivar. There was a long silence of in the room then. Both not wanting to and this strange staring contest as they blinked slowly as to not startle the other.  _

 

_ Ivar seemingly bored crawled off of the bed. And started towards him shoulder rolling as a practiced movement obviously. Until he came to stop at the edge of the tub Heahmund was occupying.  _

 

_ “There will be a war,” Ivar says lilting voice carries wrong the room. “A war between brothers and a war for Kattegat.”  He looks down for a second anger clear on his face. “You will help me fight this war.”  _

 

_ Heahmund scoffs disbelieving. He just found his mate only to find out they are at the beginning of a civil war? Lord, help him. _

 

_ “Why should I do that?” Heahmund says voice rough. “Your family matters mean nothing to me. Only you. And God’s plan for me.” Ivar rolls his eyes at the mention the the the one god. Their Christian savior.  _

 

_ “Well, your mate wants to win this war bishop.” Ivar mummers reaching into the tub and pulling out the rag sitting the next to Heahmund’s bare leg. “I cannot promise you, children, strong boys or beautiful girls.”  _

 

_ “But I can promise you fame and fortune and the winning of many battles. And many wars. I have no intention of peace but I want permanent settlements. Trophies to stay there while I am gone.” Ivar puts it all on the table.  _

 

_ “What makes you think that I want all of that?” Heahmund questions heart beating quickly at Ivar’s offer but wanting see what his mate will say. _

 

_ Ivar looks up from where he was cleaning of Heahmund’s chest tub filled with blood. “You are a great warrior,” Ivar says “You are not humble and you like to fight.” _

 

_ “What more do you want?” Ivar questions. _

__

_ Heahmund thinks for a minute. “I want you.” He states firmly.  _

 

_ Ivar looks at him a shy smile forming at his mouth. It's different from the terrifying expressions he sees on him in the short period of time he has seen Ivar. _

 

_ “You already have me,” Ivar promises. _

 

_ ************** _

 

“Are you afraid of your brothers?” Heahmund asks while they are playing a game. Ivar doesn't look up from the board although his shoulders tense.

 

“No.” He whispers softly eyes intent on the game. Ivar’s hair is down framing his face. His face is soft hard lines gone, banished by the presence of his mate and the privacy of his tent. Wearing only a thin shirt and loose leathers he looks like an angel if Heahmund ever saw one. 

 

_ “But, _ ” Ivar says reaching down to take Heahmund’s pawn. The bishops’ mouth tightened around the corners. “Bjorn is a big man and also a great warrior but he isn't smart,” Ivar pauses and reconsiders “Not as smart as me.”

 

Heahmund smirks and takes Ivar’s king. Maybe he isn't the only one who not so humble. Ivar stops and blows out an angry breath. 

 

“I'm tired,” he says abruptly. Crawling towards his bed. Heahmund ‘s eyes fall to Ivar’s back where huge snakes are imprinted onto his body. “Why snakes?” Heahmund asks desperately curious. 

 

“Because they are on my chariot.” He says simply. “And because of my father.”  _ Of course _ ! Heahmund mentally smacks himself. He had heard my tales of how Ragnar died. But none confirmed until now.

 

“I’m sorry-,” Heahumd started but Ivar waved it off. Quickly grief quickly one as it had appeared. 

 

“Lay with me, my bishop,” Ivar commanded. Heahmund sighed softly mentally cheering in his head Ivar had made him sleep in the cot on the other side of the room since he stayed here. Never had he invited him to bed.

Getting on the bed beside Ivar he wrapped an arm around his waist. And pulled him back making a little thud as Ivar’s back collided with his chest.

 

Bending his neck down a little Heahmund put his nose next to the curve of Ivar’s neck and  _ inhaled _ . Moaning softly Ivar tilted his head back for Heahmund to explore more. Smirking a bit Heahmund kissed up Ivar’s throat up to his lips where he stopped. They were plump and red delicious to look at. He wanted to bite.

 

Lowering himself down he presses his lips to Ivar's and swallows a groan. It's messy hands everywhere, mouths mashed together in a messy embrace. Heahmund travels his hand up slowly up Ivar’s body. From his waist to his stomach reaching his chest. Going up furthermore he widens his fingers over the span of Ivar’s neck and presses gently.

 

Ivar’s eyes flutter shut, not of his own accord mind you, and groans. Sound bouncing around the room. 

 

“Kiss me.” He demands hotly. Heahmund shakes his head amused at his mate antics.

 

“Not until you admit you through the game on purpose, knowing you would lose.” Ivar’s eyes snap open. Glaring heatedly at the alpha’s smug smile. 

 

“I did  _ no such thing.” _ He so it's out offended. He had been working all day, of course, he was tired. It wasn't my fault his bout of work caught up with him while in the middle of the game.

 

He told the alpha this.

 

“Ok, then Ivar.” He says naturally. And puts his hand back on Ivar’s waist and settles down eyes closing for sleep. 

 

“Heahmund,” Ivar says. 

 

“ _ Bishop.”  _ That is shouted. 

 

Heahmund makes no indication of being awake except the quirk of his lips. Ivar bares his teeth and growls, agitated. And lays down arms crossed and lips pursed. 

 

_ Alpha’s and their egos.  _

 

It will be the death of him.


	5. Revalation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo sorry y'all had to wait!!!!

“Free will,” Ivar states in the middle of the game. He moves his pawn to the right and pulled his hand back slowly as he might change his mind and move it again.

 

“The illusion of having a choice.” Ivar pauses and looks up at King Harald. 

 

“Astrid had no choice.” Ivar finishes looking at him intently. Harald shifted his eyes away from the Omega in front of him. Did Ivar always have to be so... intense?

 

“Astrid and Lagertha are lovers.” Ivar’s mouth set into a grim line displeasure clearly shown on his face. Harald shifted wondering where exactly Ivar was going with this conversation.

 

“ _ What the hell were you thinking?”  _ Ivar shouted. The king jumped back, startled not expecting the volume of Ivar's voice.

_ “Bringing _ her here and letting her into your bedroom and  _ kingdom!” _ Ivar shook his head snarling angrily. Seeing the shocked and fearful look in King Harald’s, eyes he tried to calm himself down. He tried desperately, to fight off the urge to wrap his fingers around the other alphas neck.

 

“You,” he began seriously “ _ Will not  _ discuss any battle strategy in her presence. In your illusion of happiness and giving Astrid a choice you have given her power.” Ivar sat silently then. Head tilted slightly and fists clenched by his side he looked ready to attack anything that moved. Harald swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. He was dying to ask a  question but he heads a feeling that it wouldn't be appreciated as of now.

 

“Lucky,” Ivar said voice clam and even since the first time he had starting shouting “My mate caught Astrid just in time before her betrayal could go unnoticed.” Heahmund stepped in the room seemingly waiting outside the whole time. Walking further into the room behind him Astrid walked. Head up but trembling as he leads her father into the room where Ivar and Harald sat. They both stopped in front of the table. Heahmund looked down at the game they were playing. He said nothing but a smirk curled up at the edge of his lips as he scanned the board. Walking over he stood behind Ivar. Silent.

 

Harald looked at the couple before him and he shuddered. They both looked menacing. While Ivar looks completely composed as always Heahmund looked almost bored out of his mind. He had also gotten his sword back, he noted to himself.

 

Harald wasn't shocked at the death glare that Astrid was aiming at  Ivar and Heahmund. He felt his teeth ground together and he exhaled heavily through his mouth. Looking away from her he flicked his hand away turning his back on her. Showing his distaste. Ivar’s guards pushed forward and took her out of the tent while Astrid struggled all the way, obviously angry. 

 

Ivar who had watched the whole thing with a smile looked back at the bishop who was still staring at the other side of the tent with a blank expression on his face. Ivar pressed his lips together and schooled his expression into one of sympathy. He got up and patted Harald on the back frowning when Harald put his head down between his hands and began to cry. 

 

Ivar hurriedly put his hand off of his back and stared awkwardly at Heahmund who was staring at the King with a mixed expression on his face. The two mates looked at each other for a moment then backed slowly from the table. Ivar wincing every time his legs scraped across the floor. They made it out just in time because as soon as they stepped outside it sounded like something was being thrown across the room and an angry yell echo through the whole immediate area.

 

Ivar looked back lips pressed into a tight line. Heahmund glanced back and leaned over to Ivar. “I think we should have done it less harshly.”

 

Ivar nodded in agreement and they rushed to their own tent when they heard the sound of a weapon getting thrown across the room.

  
  


                   --------------------------

 

“I killed my brother, Sigurd,” Ivar admits later that night. He's dressed in night time clothes, thin black clothing that goes past his hips and reaches the top of his knees. His hair is down and reaching his shoulders and he looks relaxes despite the statement he just uttered. Heahmund looks up from the battle plans and unto Ivar gaze not surprised. People in this kingdom like to talk and he has heard  _ every _ rumor about his mate. 

 

“It was a mistake, a..” Ivar loses his voice for a moment, voice shaking “loss of control on my part.” Heahmund stares because Ivar looks for once  _ regretful. _ Ivar looks towards him suddenly that Heahmund jerks in surprised because now he looks  _ angry. _

 

God help him.

 

“I enjoyed killing him,” Ivar grits out he smiled briefly at him and then his shoulders slumped as if all the anger he had vanished in that instant. “For the things that he did to me when I was  _ naive _ and trusting _.”  _ Ivar pressed his lips together in distaste thinking about all the times he  _ hated  _ Sigurd. And he had all right too.

 

_ “Where are we going?” 12-year-old Ivar asks curiously he has never ventured far from Kattegat only to Floki’s house and back to his. Sigurd doesn't really just grunts and goes deeper into the forest staying a good distance from him at all times.  _

 

_ Then they’re attacked from all sides. Well, Ivar is attacked, Sigurd stays out to the side looking at the scene unblinkingly. Ivar has him a betrayed glance and manages a few panicked words before his assailants knock him out cold.  _

 

“I woke up in my mother's arms,” Ivar said in a quiet voice, his words slurring together. He looked tired, noted Heahmund. His eyes were dropping, eyes glossing over and body laying soft and relaxed on the bed. Hair around him. Like a halo. He looked like an angel. 

 

“That's where I learned that you can only trust  _ certain  _ people and trust is hard earned.” Ivar sent a loaded glance at Heahumd and looked back down seemingly in thought,  _ again. _

 

But Heahmund considered his words, about his mate, Ivar and how unstable and paranoid he really was. And he thought of himself, the same probably even more unstable he thought darkly. 

 

“I am the one Ivar,” Heahmund spoke, “ you can believe in me.” 

 

Ivar stared at him for a while. Then turned over in his bed already done with the conversation. 

 

“We will see.”

 

_ An angel rests.  _

  
  


          ------------------------------------------

 

_ I am King. _

 

A horrible thing really, Alfred thought. He was no good, not even really  _ legitimate.  _ No omega ever sat on a throne that wasn't by a King’s side as  _ Queen.  _ So excuse him for being a little doubtful of himself. But as he looked at himself in the mirror, in his personal chambers, he couldn't help but marvel how  _ right  _ it looked on his head. 

And he thought about Ivar. Ragnar’s youngest. He remembers playing chess with him. How scored he looked as they took him away on the carriage. Away from his father, hands still clutching the chess piece tightly. 

 

And then he thought about how his men described Ivar. 

 

“ _ A devil in the flesh.”  _ One of the few people who had escaped York alive. Whose eyes had been haunted like he was seeing a living nightmare over and over again? 

 

Alfred shivered and walked to the warmth of his bed. Away from the tales of brutal violence of vikings.

 

_ A devil in the flesh?  _ Alfred thought. 

 

How evil must he be? 


	6. Sorry

Guys, I don't think I can continue the story. In just not feeling the Ivar/ heahmund ship anymore 

I am REALLY SORRY I know people actually like my writing. I don't know why but they do. 

But goodbye : ) 

Oh and if u you want to continue the story just do it. Idc

**Author's Note:**

> Did u like it? Comment down below, please.


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